


(Love) Drunk on a Plane

by tarnishedpeonies



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Chases, Just A King Crowning His Queen, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing (Transformers)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 11:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30020946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarnishedpeonies/pseuds/tarnishedpeonies
Summary: Grimlock suggests a new game to his mate, that he thinks they both might enjoy. Silverbolt isn't so sure.[This was a birthday present to myself. This is my first rare pair and I still love them.]
Relationships: Grimlock/Silverbolt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	(Love) Drunk on a Plane

Silverbolt’s faceplates screwed tight, optics narrowing. “What? I haven’t heard that before in my life. Why would we do that?”

“Because it _fun_ ,” Grimlock insisted, ineffective tyrannosaurus arms bouncing up and down. “It _exciting_ ,” he reiterated. “Grimlock hear other fliers say so. You fly, I chase.”

“You said ‘hunt’ earlier,” Silverbolt pointed out, staring at the king Dinobot.

“Chase. Hunt. Whichever,” Grimlock agreed with what could only be a smile with those sharp teeth.

Unconvinced, Silverbolt crossed his arms. “You said ‘other fliers’. Have you been talking to my brothers? Or - or is this something Swoop put you up to?” When Grimlock shook his head, Silverbolt felt even less sure. “What _other fliers_ do you know, Grimlock? What, is Skyfire giving you dating advice now?”

“Ha,” the Dinobot forced a single laugh, “Skyfire no talk to Grimlock! Grimlock hear though. Fliers like to be chased. Grimlock likes to chase. Silverbolt run, Grimlock _chase_ ,” he insisted. “Please?” Grimlock couldn’t make a ‘puppy-dog face’, as Spike called it, but the tone of his vocalizer managed to demand an amount of sympathy Silverbolt hadn’t expected to give. “ _Please_?” Grimlock’s muzzle lowered and pressed into Silverbolt’s chest.

Grunting at his strength, Silverbolt put a steady hand on Grimlock’s nuzzle and pressed him back until he could look Grimlock in the optics. “Okay, okay. But under two conditions? Please,” he asked and Grimlock nodded. “One, you need to be gentle with my wings.” If Grimlock was in some kind of hunting frenzy Silverbolt couldn’t predict how the Dinobot would act. “Two, you need to promise me that you’ll spike me in bot mode, not in dino mode. Okay?” Silverbolt found Grimlock’s dino mode more thrilling, but he found Grimlock had better control in his bipedal mode. “Deal?”

“Deal,” Grimlock agreed. “Okay! Okay, you get head start, and I come find,” Grimlock nodded, then impatiently started nudging Silverbolt’s chest again. “Go.”

Silverbolt laughed, patting the muzzle again. “I’m going, I’m going,” he took a few steps back and turned, heading out of the Ark at a good clip until he could see the sky and enough room to transform. Then he was flying, though for the sake of the chase he flew low. Grimlock had a good nose and would be able to track him, but Silverbolt realized he didn’t want to wait too long for his Dinobot to find him! That’d be boring. Which…okay, Silverbolt hadn’t thought it when Grimlock presented the idea, but knowing that Grimlock was _already_ giving chase started heating his panels.

More than that, Silverbolt felt surprised that he wanted Grimlock to find him and frag him into the dirt wherever he found the flier. It sounded filthy, and that’s what made it thrilling. Usually they were on a flat rock surface, or one of the flier bays converted into the Ark. Out here in the wilderness it could be anything. Silverbolt knew Grimlock could do it, _would_ do it! It made his balance falter briefly, to the point that Silverbolt brought himself lower in case he needed to land quickly.

The thoughts processing through of Grimlock finding him, catching him, and pinning him down weren’t keeping his heading straight. The mental images that came with them persisted, and - okay, maybe Silverbolt did need to land. Transforming to drop down onto his feet, the flier took a moment to lean against a rock and perform a deep intake to his engines. In that moment Silverbolt swore he could feel the vibration of Grimlock’s footfalls through the Earth, in the boulder he was touching, as the king grew closer.

Looking to the direction he was headed, Silverbolt saw a fairly straight path ahead of him: well-worn, one of the many grounder off-road trails that led to the Ark. Looking off in the other direction, he saw rocky and mountainous hills leading in an incline, but couldn’t see past them. It was unpredictable, and while Silverbolt didn’t know the area, it was possible Grimlock didn’t either.

The flier started that way, quickly. He wanted to get at far enough from the Ark that no one would see when Grimlock did catch him (inevitable, he realized as his wings shivered), even if they could hear them. The Autobots had unspoken rules about interrupting interfacing mechs, and while Silverbolt didn’t relish the idea of being found out, he couldn’t bear being _seen_. It didn’t settle with him, though he knew Grimlock didn’t care.

The climb wasn’t easy either. Silverbolt had balked at the idea of flying, especially at heights, with enough time and practice he was able to handle it without much stress. He still couldn’t make it into the upper atmosphere without hitting his anxiety ceiling, especially when the air got thin at the zenith of lacking oxygen just before weightlessness…but he was doing better than when he was first on-lined into his trial by fire! Now he couldn’t even straighten his wings without them quivering, when a little flight would have gone a long ways.

“Oh _Silver_ bolt,” Grimlock called out behind him as Silverbolt started heading down the first decline, steps picking up quickly as the rush of being chased pushed him. It occurred to him, that he should be caught, and starting to slow so he didn’t trip. Yeah, tripping. That was Silverbolt’s primary concern on these loose rocks. Not having big, strong Dinobot hands gripping his frame.

It wasn’t easy trying to be safe. Silverbolt slid anyways, landing aft-first on the loose dirt and gravel and sliding all the way to the bottom of the hill. _Scrap!_ Grimlock chose that moment to come thundering down the hill behind him; Silverbolt didn’t have to look to know, feeling the vibrations instead. The flier scrambled to start up the next hill as quickly as he could. Or, as quickly as he thought Grimlock should see. The part of him that wanted to get caught slowed Silverbolt, then made him pause.

Then Grimlock’s grip closed on one of his wings, a charge shocking through his framework as heat entered his lines. He’d felt it when he was being chased, and now it was impossible to ignore. He whimpered when Grimlock leaned in close, parts of his large frame pressing against his legs, back, and wings when Grimlock leaned in to growl in his audial, “Got you.”

Silverbolt’s panel popped open with a moan. There was no control left. He needed contact now. “Grimlock, please,” he begged, and felt Grimlock’s spike pressing against his inner leg. Had he been running with it out? The query vanished as it pressed up against the paneling by his valve but not _in_ it. “Please!”

“What Silverbolt begging for,” Grimlock purred, pressing his helmet firmly against the side of Silverbolt’s in a nuzzle. “Want something big?”

“Yes,” Silverbolt managed, still feeling Grimlock’s spike teasing the outside of his valve, brushing along the exposed, slick lips but not pressing in. A gasping intake made his engine choke. Primus, what was he doing? Silverbolt’s hips jumped forward, pressurized spike twitching in the air. Silverbolt didn’t care how at this point, he just wanted something, anything.

“Silverbolt needy,” Grimlock concluded, the hand on Silverbolt’s wing stroking softly and earning a tight moan from the flier. “Silverbolt need release.” Grimlock’s other hand slipped beneath Silverbolt, gripping his spike gently but not moving. “Silverbolt need Grimlock.”

He couldn’t deny that, and Silverbolt’s hips jumped forward again, fragging Grimlock’s closed fingers. “Yes,” he pleaded. “Please, Grimlock. Need - I need your spike in me.” _Now,_ he begged silently, knowing better than to command the Dinobot, though he could stroke Grimlock in other ways. “I need my king.”

A pleased rumble vibrated his back and wings, the thick head of a spike pressing at Silverbolt’s valve in response. _Finally._ “Oh Primus, Grimlock, yes,” he sighed, arms folding on the dirt below him so he could rest his forehelm and raise his hips higher for Grimlock to take advantage. He realized Grimlock was taking his request seriously; he pushed in slowly, making sure Silverbolt’s valve was ready. Silverbolt needed it all, and he appreciated Grimlock taking his time, listening to Silverbolt’s request for control. It drew more gasps and pleasured ex-vents from him, hips twitching to keep some stimulation on his spike, and to help Grimlock fit.

“Prettiest flier,” Grimlock murmured in his audial again with another nuzzle. “Make my Silverbolt feel _good_.” It’s a promise Silverbolt knew Grimlock would deliver on, earning a deep moan from the flier as Grimlock pressed in until there was a **ping** between their plating. The movement forced Silverbolt’s hips forward, spike twitching in Grimlock’s grip, earning a squeeze of fingers around it. “So good,” he rumbled again as Grimlock pulled back and started rocking forward into Silverbolt at a gentle starting rhythm. “Gonna frag him pretty into the dirt,” came a growl chasing an ex-vent. “Get him _dusty_.”

Silverbolt didn’t want to overload now. It felt so good, and Grimlock wasn’t at full pace yet. Primus, he was close, and he couldn’t ignore the fact that everything was - more _primed_ than it was when they usually started interfacing. He’d taught Grimlock patience and foreplay, and Grimlock had taught him how hot it could be to have a quickie, but this was neither.

Optics faced into plating, Grimlock’s cycling grunts and growls in his audials, Silverbolt realized what Grimlock had been unable to explain earlier. The chase had been the foreplay for them both. The charge building up started back at the Ark, and not when Grimlock had finally caught him.

“Yes,” Silverbolt gasped, legs trembling as his hip actuators tightened. “Grimlock, I - I’m gonna overload,” he pleaded, “Harder. Harder please.” Silverbolt buried his faceplates into his arms, unable to stop himself while utterly embarrassed at the begging. He needed it - needed Grimlock, but he didn’t beg like that. Ever!

A grunt answered him, and Grimlock thrust faster; not harder, Silverbolt could tell, but it alleviated his need. Faster felt good, and despite smelling the dirt below his face Silverbolt had the same sensation as flight from the feedback in his wings as Grimlock gripped and touched them to keep them both steady. That thrill, combined with that lack of control. _So good -_

Grimlock’s hand came off his spike and Silverbolt cried out when his components tightened, then released, transfluid splashing into the dirt in front of him and dribbling down the slope in a strange colored mud. “Grimlock!” He heard his mate roar above him, and then the Dinobot started thrusting into Silverbolt _hard_. More transfluid hit the dirt, and Silverbolt shuddered.

It wasn’t too much. Silverbolt hadn’t hit his sensation thresh hold yet, even if his incoherent moaning would mislead anyone but Grimlock. He _was_ a mess. Silverbolt could feel that now, as his spike depressurized. It wasn’t just the splashed transfluid mud on his frame; his valve was so wet, every time Grimlock thrust in a little more lubricant dribbled down his leg. He hadn’t felt it until now, and he couldn’t deny it. Silverbolt wanted more - he wanted to overload again, around Grimlock’s thick spike, and feel his king thrusting right through it.

The thought was enough to push him over, and the sensation made his processor scatter. It wasn’t the threshold; he didn’t need Grimlock to stop, but whatever Silverbolt cried out in that missing nanoklik had Grimlock growling with pleasure against his helmet. “Pretty flier. Pretty Silverbolt,” he rumbled. “Make you feel good,” just like the Dinobot had promised. All Silverbolt could do was moan back, feeling Grimlock thrusting still.

“My Grimlock,” he laughed after his processor caught, giddy after the two quick overloads. “You feel so good. I want you to feel good too,” his valve was fine, but his legs were shaking and unless Grimlock switched his grip the hands on his wings wouldn’t keep them upright.

Grunting, the Dinobot repositioned them both, hands moving off his wings as Silverbolt heard Grimlock's claws dig into the rock and dirt, while his hands gripped the earth above his helmet. Slag if Grimlock didn’t keep a promise. Silverbolt was sure he’d _squeaked_ when Grimlock started pounding into him hard enough to hear their panels clang with each thrust in. It sent stars through his vision before Silverbolt offlined his optics, and just let himself feel the sensation. Grimlock was close too, he could feel it in the heat between them, the way his spike twitched and felt bigger when it hit home.

“My **queen** ,” Grimlock managed a guttural roar, slamming home one last time and pushing them both into another overload.

Primus what a mess. Even when Silverbolt managed to sag down against the side of the hill he’d been caught on, he was trembling. They’d need a real polishing kit to get each other cleaned up. Silverbolt didn’t have one, and he knew Grimlock didn’t carry one. Looking back over his shoulder, Silverbolt shivered when Grimlock’s forehelm touched his. Grimlock was still laying over him, touching his sides and wings gently. “My queen,” he said softer this time, engine purring incessantly. “Hmmm, make Grimlock chase again. Grimlock like.”

“Me too,” Silverbolt whispered. “Thank you.” Okay. Maybe he could deal with looking like a mess on the way back into base, so long as he brought Grimlock with him. Everyone knew, it wasn’t a secret, and the idea of spending a night together relaxing after interfacing (for once) thrilled Silverbolt in a different way. Grimlock had called him a _queen_ \- his queen. “Thank you,” he repeated.


End file.
